Page 15 of Engulfing Emma

“How do you know this shit? You a teacher, right?”

“I am, but I’ve gone through special training in case a student gets injured. Please believe me when I tell you he’ll die if you don’t let him out of here.”

“Hell no. I ain’t lettin’ nobody outta here until I figure out what to do. My homie Jeremy’s working on the outside. He’ll come up with something. He always do.”

“You won’t let him out?” she asks. “Then he’ll die.”

“No he won’t. You bullshittin’ me, teacher.”

“Look at me,” she says. “I’m not lying. He will die, and you’ll be charged with murder. You don’t want that. I can tell you don’t want that. If you won’t let him out, will you at least let in a paramedic? Someone who can bring in blood and help Carter stay alive?”

“You want me to let someone else inside?” the gunman says. “Are you crazy, bitch? That’s just a way for the pigs to get in and take me down. No way I’m fallin’ for that shit.”

“That’s not what will happen. Please put the phone back on the hook, and when it rings, I’ll answer it. I’ll talk to them if you don’t want to. But please help Carter. It will help your case when this whole thing gets resolved. I’m sure they will do whatever you ask to make this happen.”

There is a long pause and I wonder if he’s looking at Carter to see if she’s being truthful.

“Do it,” he says. “But put the speaker on. I ain’t talkin’, but I don’t want nobody pulling no shit.”

“Thank you,” Emma says.

They must walk away, because their voices recede. I nod to the police behind me. “Try to call now. And get me that kit and the blood. I’m going in.”

The officer in charge shakes his head. “You can’t do that. One of us will go in and pretend to be you, then we’ll disarm the perp, and this will all be over.”

“Carter is going to die if he doesn’t get blood in the next few minutes. We need to deal with that first and then work on a plan. Remember, the gunman doesn’t know there’s a phone in the storeroom. I’ll call you as soon as he’s stable.”

“We have a live line!” someone shouts.

As the police call and then negotiate the terms of my entrance, I work with the other paramedics on scene to gather what I need.

An officer shows me a zip tie. “The woman said he insists you go in with your hands tied.”

The woman. So Emma did end up speaking to the police on his behalf.

“How in the hell am I supposed to carry everything?”

“She said to put everything in a bag and wear it around your neck. No knives, just the needles to do the infusion. She said—” He stops talking and a look of grave concern comes over his face.

“She said what?”

“She said he’ll hurt her if we don’t follow his exact instructions.”

I nod, terrified that if I screw this up, Emma will pay the ultimate price. “Let’s do this. Carter doesn’t have much time.” I remove my FDNY shirt. “Someone get me a different T-shirt. I don’t want to intimidate him with this one.”

After I put on a plain nondescript shirt, someone hangs a bag of supplies around my neck and then zip-ties my hands together in front of me. I walk around the trucks with my hands in the air and approach the school. Debbe or Ryan or J.D. could have done this. We’re all trained paramedics. But I could hardly ask one of them to go. We all have families to think about, not just me, and I already know what’s going on with Carter. I can treat him more quickly than the others. It has to be me.

There is movement by the front door. Things are being cleared away to allow access. A woman steps out, a gun to the back of her head. She’s young, maybe mid-twenties, with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looks oddly familiar.

Before I climb the steps, the gunman yells, “Turn around!”

I turn slowly, keeping my arms above my head and showing him I don’t have any tricks up my sleeve. In fact, I don’t even have sleeves. He wanted me only in a T-shirt and pants. Not even a belt. He’s worried I might attack him. Then again, he’s the one with the gun. He holds all the power right now. It’s my job to keep him thinking that.

“Walk up slowly,” he says.

I climb the steps in a non-aggressive manner. When I get close to the door, he tells me to stop and directs the woman to take the bag from around my neck.

They back up, and he aims his gun at me as I come through the doors. A slender man moves the barricades back into place behind me. He marches us into what I assume is the administrative office.

---